He's Still Here
by Blue Teller
Summary: "The blood seal is broken. The armor is empty. But his soul... is it true, Al? Are you really still here?" Edward's perspective in BelloftheSea's story "I'm Still Here"


**DISCLAIMER!**

 **The original "I'm Still Here" story belongs to BelloftheSea author, who was inspired by the fanart you can see up there in the picture, made by FlorideCuts. I asked for permission to rewrite it from Edward's perspective. This version a little more detailed than Alphonse's point of view, there are more dialogs and several elements added which were not included in the original. I hope it makes it only more enjoyable.**

 **This story is my tribute for BelloftheSea, one of my favorite authors on this site. I've read this particular story about 20 times, I loved it so much. It is not my intention to "steal" anything. I only wish to share my creativity with you guys.**

 **Changed rating from K+ to T, for all the angsty motives involved, but also genre from Angst/Family to Family/Hurt/Comfort. I don't know, it just seems more fitting to me.**

 **You don't need to read the original fic to understand what is going on – but I recommend it. It's absolutely worth it :)**

* * *

In the back of my mind, there's this urgent nagging. There are too many of them – we underestimated them, they were prepared for us – but I'm doing my best to keep them away. I need to pay attention. I need to join Al, quickly. He needs me. I can't screw this up. I have to get his side, fast, I must protect my little brother, before something-

Then I hear it.

The most horrible, dreadful sound any human being has ever heard.

Al's blood seal, breaking.

The guy who did it – that _bastard_ – grins as the armor stops moving, for a moment the entire world is dead still. I watch like in slow motion as it falls down, hits the ground with an earth-trembling, metallic clatter. The helmet falls off and rolls away a couple of feet. Then, it stops and lays flat on the concrete like a tossed coin. Motionless.

The seal shatters, and with it, my entire world crumbles.

I'm not even fully aware of the words coming out of my mouth.

"No! No! Alphonse! Al! No!" I scream desperately.

No, Al, no! No no no! This can't be happening!

The man looks at me and sneers gleefully. I feel something inside me snap. For a second, my vision literally goes red. Rage fills every living cell of my body, it washes through me like a wave of burning hot energy. I leap forward.

My strength triples. I know I have never moved as fast as this, I had no idea I was capable of it, but nothing matters now. I take them out, one by one, not wasting more than two strikes on each of them. They're not dead – I don't think so – but I make sure that every hit hurts, that it's direct and as painful as possible. I don't care about the henchmen, though – my eyes are focused on the leader. He did this. He did this to Al. That absolute bastard! I'm going to kill him, I'm going to send him straight to _hell_!

In mere seconds, I manage to get closer to him. The smugness of his accomplishment slips off his face, replaced by shock and anger. He tries to attack me, but my automail fist is faster. He falls back. I let him get back on his feet, just to punch him in the face again. And again. And again.

After the fifth round he doesn't get up. Stand up, you bastard! I glare at him. If my stare could physically burn, he'd be fried faster than the Colonel can snap. Get up, you rotten coward! I'm not done with you yet! Is this is really all you've got?!

I look around for anybody, anything I can relieve my anger with. Then my eyes meet Al's damaged, unmoving form. Only now the realization hits home.

Al's… gone. He's really gone.

The pain in my chest is suffocating. I can barely breathe, my lungs make a wheezing noise when I try to inhale the precious air. It hurts. It physically hurts. I let out the loudest, nearly animalistic sound out of my throat. It still isn't enough. Helpless in my rage, I let out the rawness of my fury on the unconscious body in front of me. No curse is enough to express my hatred towards this man.

You! You hurt him! You took my innocent little brother from me...!

...I am going to _kill you_ for this.

I really want to. Never before have I desired to take a person's life with such passion. But in this moment, I truly believe I want to do it. I'm willing to throw all my convictions away because _this_ _monster_ _has murdered Alphonse_. I raise my arm for the finishing blow.

Suddenly, I imagine what would Al think of me if he could see me right now. I can practically feel his eyes on my back, hear his frantic screaming in my head:

 _No, Brother, no more! Please, stop! You'll kill him if you don't!_

"Al..." I breathe out, my voice is shaking. He would hate me if he could see what I just almost did. He would be disgusted with me.

Suddenly, something grabs my hand and for a short, crazy moment I believe that it's really Al, that he's here. But too soon do I recognize the white glove on my wrist.

"Fullmetal."

The Colonel forces me to stand up. I'm too numb to disobey. For the next minute, I have no clue what is going on. People are moving, talking, others are being arrested and taken into custody. It's the usual routine, but something's missing, something very important. Or rather, someone.

Like a puppet being dragged by strings, my legs move against my will. I ignore all the soldiers around me, my eyes focused on the mountain of still metal several feet away. But the closer I get, the weaker my knees become and the slower my steps get, as if the proximity of the armor drains my strength away. There's a strange feeling of light-headedness, I can't comprehend what is happening. I'm probably going to drop any second now, but I still move forward. Then my shoe bumps into something, a loud clatter echoes in the room and I cease my breathing. I look down.

It's Al's helmet.

 _No_. My first thought is denial. I can't… this can't be happening. Not Al. I don't believe it, I refuse to believe it! It's not… It's not-

Something inside my chest is cracking, I can feel my heart being ripped to pieces. My eyes blur.

No, what am I doing? I can't cry! I don't deserve to cry… I can't let myself be so weak, I have to be strong, for Al-

But Al's gone, isn't he? Alphonse is… dead.

Finally, I break down.

I fall on the ground, my hands almost unconsciously grab the helmet and pull it close to my chest. I weep. I forget that there are still other people around, soldiers are staring at me, Colonel Bastard is probably looking at me with pity or contempt… none of that matters. The only thing in the world that ever mattered to me is gone.

Tears flow freely down my face, because there's no one I'm supposed hide them from anymore.

* * *

It's been a week. But it doesn't feel like it. It feels like a year. Or ten years. Or a millennium.

Has it really only been a week since I've heard Al's tender voice? Since we talked, sparred, joked around together…

I remember only two eras of my life. Life with Alphonse, and life without Alphonse. Alright, so I still remember mom. Things were so different back when she was alive. But then, faster than I could process what was going on, she died of that epidemic. And now, just like that, Al is gone too. And I'm alone.

All alone.

Oh, how desperately I wish Human Transmutation was possible right now. But I'm not that stupid to try it again. That transmutation is what ruined our lives, mine and Al's. If it wasn't for my foolish idea, Al would never have lost his body. He would not have been bonded to that suit of armor. He wouldn't have died.

It's because of me. It's all my fault. Oh, Alphonse, my sweet little brother, I am so sorry. If there's an afterlife, somewhere, please forgive me.

The others are trying to be supportive. Hawkeye, Breda, Falman, Havoc, Fuery… They tell me it's not my fault. But I know it's not true. I'm the only one to blame for what happened. Nothing can erase my guilt. I can tell they're sad that Al is gone, too, but there's no way they can't understand. Al wasn't just "a brother" to me, he was… everything I had left. Now, I have nothing.

Still, deep down I feel grateful for what they're all doing for me. Mustang even invited me to his house. Suspiciously generous of the Bastard, but I don't question it. What's the point? I don't care where I stay. I could be sulking in the sewers and I be just as 'happy' as I am right now.

Al's armor in my room. I refuse to let it go. It's in terrible shape: dented and ripped in many places, one glove is missing. But I have no will to fix it. It would only make me believe Al would wake up any moment, like nothing ever happened. I yearn the false hope, but it wouldn't be very wise. It would quickly drive me into madness. I could already feel myself slowly slip into it, why making the process faster?

It doesn't stop me from talking to him, though. He's the only one I can speak to. I have no reason to speak with others. They can't understand, they won't understand. So why would I even try?

Al, I miss you. So much. Please forgive me, little brother… Please forgive me.

* * *

They say that loss gets easier over time.

It's a lie. It doesn't.

It only gets worse.

It's been two months, and every day the only thing on my mind is the fact that Al is gone. It goes beyond painful – it's insufferable. I can't take it, I _cannot_. It's never going to get any better, because Al won't come back. I've learned my lesson with mom. People never come back from the dead. We have to just let them go. Simple.

The only problem is, that's impossible.

When Al died, he didn't only take his life soul him. He took mine as well. At least, that's what it feels like. I'm incomplete, I'm missing a part of myself – a much more significant part than an arm or a leg. Hell, I would gladly give up all of my remaining limbs, my whole _body_ , just to have Al back, even for a minute.

But I can't. I'm stuck here in this living hell without him and it pains me more than an automail surgery. Every second I breathe. The worst part is, I have no purpose for living. I don't know what to do anymore. When I left Resembool with Al, I promised we would go back together when we get out bodies back. I broke my promise. I can't go back to Resembool. It'd rather die on the street like the (military) dog I am.

Every day, this concept seems more and more appealing to me.

When asked, I say everything is fine though. The team can see I'm lying, that much is certain. But for their sake, I still do my best to pretend that I'm alright. Just because I feet utterly miserable, doesn't mean I have to make everybody's lives like mine. On the other hand, aside from being a bit more considerate than usual, they don't treat me much differently, which is a great relief. It would be so easy for them just not to deal with me at all, or look down on me with pity. I hate pity. People show it when they think they're better and stronger than the person who suffers.

They never do. They never mention Al and I never bring him up, even though we're all thinking about him. I'm working in the office now, doing paperwork. The Colonel didn't think it was a good idea to send me on another mission so soon. Normally I would be mad at him for thinking that I'm weak… but… sadly, it's true, I wouldn't be able to handle it, not yet. I'm too distracted. If I got into a fight right now, it's possible I would just stand there and let them stab me. It can't hurt more than what I'm already going through.

I think Mustang knows what's on my mind. At least, he suspects. Maybe that's the reason why he keeps me in his house, to prevent me from doing something stupid. He probably thinks I'm like a child that needs to be taken care of. I despise that… Although it's nice to think that maybe someone cares, at least a little bit.

Not that I would ever say it out loud.

* * *

Days after day passes. Nothing changes.

I stare out the window, to take my mind off Al, but everything I see reminds me of him.

A cat passes the street, soaked wet in the rain.

 _Can we keep him, Brother? Please?_

I never let him keep any of the kittens he used to hide in his armor. I told him we couldn't take care of them. We didn't have a home, we were always traveling. But now, I regret it. If I have known this would happen, I would let him keep a damn cat. Hell, he could start a Zoo for all that I cared. If only he could still be here with me.

My eyes turn to the sky, at the endless shower of raindrops coming down from the grey could. Even the weather agrees with my mood.

 _I can't feel the rain on my skin because I have no body… That by itself is lonely and cruel. I still want to return to my old body, Brother. I want to be human again._

I hear the words Al told me the day we were attacked by Scar, they ring in my ears and shatter my soul. I promised him. I promised I would get his body back. He believed in me, he trusted me, but I failed him. I'm a failure as a sibling, I couldn't save my brother, just like I couldn't save an innocent little girl.

I bit my lip. I can't cry, not here, not in the office. It can wait until I go to bed. Every night I either have nightmares, or spend the lonely hours crying into my pillow. I'm so pathetic. I don't deserve to cry, I don't. But once I start, I just can't stop. I hate myself. How dare you cry when Al never got the chance because of you? You don't deserve anything, you monster.

 _Brother, it's alright_ _to show weakness once in a while_ _. You don't need to keep it all in_ _all the time_ , Al's voice echoes in my mind. My hands shake. I'm getting emotional again.

"You alright, Chief?" Havoc asks. Damn, he must have noticed. I grit my teeth and force my eyes to remain dry. But there's still this suffocating lump in my throat, I can't speak.

I get up and go to the bathroom. If I stay here any longer, I might break in front of them. They already saw my display of tears the day Al was killed. I don't want to make a scene again, never in public.

Fullmetal Alchemist is not supposed to cry. He's supposed to be tough, strong, unbreakable… Perhaps the part of me that was Fullmetal died along with Alphonse.

When I'm finally all alone, I let my tears fall. I lean over the sink, the rushing water is blocking out the sounds of my sobbing. I inwardly scold myself and I try to keep it together, but I fail. I can't let them see me like this! If they realize how broken and useless I am, they will get rid of me. When that happens… I don't want to think about it.

I wash my face and look in the mirror. I look horrible. I have dark circles under my eyes, my face is pale, my cheeks look like I haven't eaten in weeks. Which is partly true. I wanted to stop eating altogether, but the team and Mustang made sure I would get at least three meals a day. I can barely touch them. I feel hunger, but it doesn't matter, I miss my brother much more than food. And besides, I don't deserve to enjoy such things anymore, not when Al wanted them so much, but never got to, because of me.

 _You have to take care of yourself Brother, you need nourishment._

I know, Al, I know, but what's the point when you're no longer here?

I rest my face in the palm of my flesh hand.

What is the point of all of this?

* * *

I can't take it anymore.

Deep down, I don't want to do it. I really don't. I'm scared – I admit it. I'm a coward. But I have to do this. I really just can't continue being like this, existing, but not living. There's no life for me without Alphonse. He's gone, and so is my hope. There's nothing more for me out there.

That's what I tell myself when I look at the .45 caliber gun, laying on my lap.

I stole it. I took it from Havoc when he wasn't looking today. He's going to notice soon – perhaps he'll figure out what I'm about to do. He'll call the Colonel and tell him. He will try to stop me. Maybe. If they care enough.

Only more reason to hurry up and do this already, I think. But my hands don't move. I stare at the gun, mesmerized.

I never thought I would use it, especially to take a life. Ironically, it is my own life I'm going to take. That's not wrong, is it? My life belongs to me. I can do whatever the hell I want with it.

But in my heart I know that this is wrong, that I shouldn't do it. It goes against Teacher's advice, it goes against my beliefs. It will hurt my friends, the few I have left. The team will probably miss me. But they can handle worse than this, right? They're soldiers. They're put in dangerous situations all the time, their comrades die, yet they were all fine before I joined them. They can carry on without me, I will only drag them down.

How will that jerk Mustang react when he finds out? Will he be angry? Will he be disgusted? Will he be… disappointed? The thought strangely hurts me, I don't even know why.

For the last time, I take out the picture of Winry and Granny. They don't even know that Al is dead. I couldn't go and tell them – I couldn't face them. I can't go back to Resembool. Al and I were supposed to return together.

Well, if I go through with it, then we will return to Resembool… at least, my body and Al's armor, that is.

I leave picture on my nightstand. That's it. That's the only way I can keep my promise. I put the gun on my side and stand up from the bed. Then I look at the suit of armor.

"I can't do this anymore, Al," I confess. "I can't be here with you. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I promised you..." My voice cracks. "I promised. And now… I have nothing left. What's the point? I don't want to die… but I don't want to live either. It hurts too much." I lower my head and fresh tears trickle down my chin. "It hurts, Al..."

Slowly, I pick up my tool of death. As I load ammunition into it, I'm trying to clear my mind of this tempest of emotion. A small, selfish part of me secretly wishes that for someone to suddenly come in and interrupt, for somebody who cares enough to stop me. But I know it's not going to happen. I'm all alone. I waited for Mustang to be gone to make this work.

My hand shakes violently as I put the gun to my temple. I put my trembling finger on the trigger. The safety is off.

Just do it. Just pull the trigger. Then it will be all over. It's so simple.

All of a sudden, a new wave of feelings washes over me and I imagine Al's voice, screaming:

 _Brother, you **idiot**! Only an idiot would choose a path that leads to death! You can't give up hope! Live, survive, learn more about alchemy, **you can't do that if you're dead, you idiot!**_

My arm shakes. I remember Alphonse yelling and punching me, after I almost let myself be killed by Scar. Sweet, patient, innocent Al, he was so furious with me he bashed me in the face. For some reason I can't help but laugh, but I'm pretty sure I'm crying at the same time.

"Even now, Al?" I ask, my throat is so stiff I can barely choke out the words. I can't see, my eyes are so full of water. "Even now you'll stop me? Just like before, huh? I really am an idiot..." The gun fall out of my hand and lands on the floor. I cover my face. "I just don't know what to do anymore. I need you, Al. I need you."

 _...Brother, please don't give up._

I freeze. For a second there, I could have sworn I heard Al, not just in my head. I lift my head and stare at the armor.

"Al?" I whisper and hold my breath. For the next few seconds I wait and listen, but all I hear is eery silence.

Then I laugh again, weakly, albeit hysterically.

"I must be going crazy," I say to myself, wiping away my tears. Of course, what a fool I am to believe for a moment that Al is really here. I miss his voice so much I started hearing it in my mind. I really am crazy.

But for what it's worth, I feel much better.

"Okay… I won't do it… I'll live," I say, looking at the armor. "I don't know how, but I guess I'll find a way. That's what you would want… and probably kick my ass if I didn't..." I smile picturing it. It's funny, how much I wish to be pounded senseless into the ground by Al. This is the most hilarious thing I could miss about my little brother.

So that's it. I have to keep moving. I really don't know how, but I will, for Al. I pick up the gun and put it on my night stand. My eyes focus on the picture again. Now, I'm glad that I decided not to do it. I sigh shakily.

Thank you, Al. Thank you.

* * *

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, FULLMETAL?!"

Mustang is furious. At least, that's what it sounds like judging by his voice, because I don't look up. I keep my eyes on the floor. I don't think he's ever been this angry before. I'm a bit surprised, but I don't show it.

In the corner of my eye, I can see his fists, clenched tightly and trembling. I'm waiting for him to slap me any second, he's probably using every bit of self-control not to hit my face right now. I'm not scared of what he can physically do to me. He can punch me all day long if that's what he wants. I'd be even thankful for it, to be honest.

"YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!" the Colonel yells instead, so close to my ear I can feel my eardrums almost shatter. I had no idea he had such strong lungs. "HOW DARE YOU STEAL A WEAPON FROM YOUR FELLOW OFFICER! I SHOULD HAVE YOU COURT MATRIALED THIS INSTANCE! HOW COULD YOU EVEN CONSIDER SUCH A THING?!"

I feel guilty. He continues, not letting his volume drop even for a moment. It drags for minutes and he's getting only more and more worked up, instead of calming down. I'm shocked. I can tell from his words and the way he's acting that he must have been _scared_. Did I really freak him out so much by my almost-suicide attempt? Does he really care that much?

"...AND DID YOU EVEN CONSIDER WHAT WOULD IT BE LIKE FOR HAVOC?! HE'D FEEL GUILTY FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE! DID YOU THINK ABOUT THAT?! DAMMIT, FULLMETAL, DID YOU EVEN THINK WHAT IT WOULD MAKE THE REST OF US FEEL?!"

I can scarcely believe it. I know I shouldn't be like this while I'm being shouted at – and for a good reason – but in spite of that, a small warmth blossoms in my chest. So they really _do_ care. How can they care about such a pathetic person like me? Shouldn't they be happy to get rid of me instead?

No, they wouldn't. They are way too loyal for that. Even the Bastard. Confidence is slowly filling me up as Mustang finally reaches the end his rant.

"...NEVER DO THAT AGAIN, OR I SWEAR, YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET THE DAY YOU WERE BORN! YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

There's a moment of silence. I take a deep breath, and I look him in the eye.

It's been a long while since I've done that. I haven't really looked anyone in the eye since Al's death. I examine his features, trying to figure out how much he meant of what he has said.

Mustang's face is red, out of control beyond recognition. Is this really the same smug Colonel? The one who never has a different expression on his face, beside an irritated frown and a confident smirk? His deep, dark eyes are filled with more emotions that I've ever witnessed. Rage, worry, fear, helplessness, concern, absolute fury. It's unbelievable my stunt affected him like this.

Suddenly I realize that perhaps, there are still many things left for me in this world.

I tell him that in two simple words.

"I won't," I say, and his expression changes. He's still mad, but his stance relaxes, his eyes widen with surprise and relief. He must see in my own eyes that I'm telling the truth.

Al wants me to live. So I will. No matter what hell must I go through, I will continue to live. It's the least I can do for him.

I don't even notice that I start to think about my brother in the present, instead of the past tense.

* * *

Sometimes, I'm worried about my sanity.

Consciously, I _know_ that Alphonse is gone. His empty armor stands in my very bedroom to prove it. I talk to it, I speak out loud to get things off my chest and to get the strength to get through another day. It never moves, it just sits there quietly, but I feel better every time. I know there's nobody really here with me.

And yet… I sometimes feel like he _is_.

Not only that, I also get those impressions as if he is responding to me.

"Al, I don't think I can do this. How can I do this?"

 _Be strong. I believe in you, Brother._

"What should I do, Al? What would you do in my situation?"

 _Just be patient, Brother. It will be alright._

"Am I really doing the right thing? What do you think?"

 _Yes. I'm sure of it._

Those whispers of my imagination are so comforting, however I can't get over just how _real_ they feel. It's like Al has never left. Like he's here, right beside me, giving me invisible support everywhere I go.

I know memory of a beloved person can be a powerful source of strength, but... I'm seriously wondering if I'm going insane.

It wouldn't be that surprising, considering all the crap I went through.

* * *

I'm thinking about Al again. I can't help it. I miss him so much. It's moments like this that make almost regret my decision. How am I supposed to carry on, all on my own?

I hear someone speaking to me.

"Hey, Chief," Havoc approaches me with a tray in his hand. He brought pasta from the mess hall. I turn my head away from the window.

"Oh, hey, Havoc..." I try to sound neutral, but I'm quite uncomfortable.

After I stole Havoc's gun, I've been feeling incredibly guilty around him, but I haven't mustered enough courage to apologize yet. I really shouldn't have done that. After Mustang's lecture, I tried to look at this from his perspective and I realized that truly, if I shot myself that night, Havoc wouldn't be able to forgive himself for letting his guard down.

It's never been my intention to hurt one of the people who care about me. I've been so selfish. I'm surprised he's still hanging out around me, calling me 'Chief'. What ever happened to anger, hate or any kind of normal reaction to a situation like this? I don't deserve this kindness. How can he still care after all that I put him through?!

"Want some pasta?" he asks and I smile weakly. How, indeed. I may never know.

I shake my head.

"You sure? I've got extra."

I don't respond, so Havoc just nods and proceeds to his desk. I turn back to the window. My stomach grumbles silently. I dismiss it.

 _Eat, you idiot!_

Al's angry voice rings in my brain.

Caught off guard, I gasp and immediately turn around, because it can't be him, it can't be. But I swear I heard him, it was Al, I'm sure of it!

Yet there's nothing behind me.

However, I can feel still it, like I have so many times before, only this time it's almost tangible. Alphonse's irritated demeanor is radiating from the spot I'm looking at, I can almost see him standing there, glaring at me.

This can't be just my imagination. Imagination is not supposed spook you out of nowhere. This, it feels _real_.

I don't understand what is going on right now, but I will figure it out. Still looking at the empty air in front of me, I nod.

Alright, Al.

I look over to Havoc with determination.

"Havoc?"

He looks at me with a friendly expression.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"I think I will have some… I'm sort of hungry," I say and walk up to him. Havoc is more than happy to share his pasta with me.

As I chew my lunch, I keep glancing to the spot where I thought I felt Al's presence. It can still sense something over there, but it is no longer frustration, more like _approval_.

Is this really real, or am I just going crazy?

I am no longer sure.

* * *

I can't wait till I get back to my room. I lock the door and walk to the armor. I stare.

What happened there in the office, it _couldn't_ be just a figment of my imagination. It was too sudden and unexpected. Someone was _there_ , behind me, talking to me. I feel it, even now, this presence right next to me. Like Alphonse is here. I'm almost convinced.

But how can this be?

"I don't believe in ghosts," I say firmly.

There it is again. An incredibly strong impression of a dismissal and someone shaking head washes over me.

"That's a no, right?" I try to guess, sitting down. It's sort of like playing charades, only without seeing the other person. "You're not a ghost then. But you are here."

The atmosphere shifts immediately. Warmth spreads over me, I feel like someone is smiling at me, enveloping me in a hug. I inwardly shiver and wrap arms around myself, seeking Al's comforting presence.

"I want to believe it," I whisper. My heart squeezes painfully as hope fills it for the first time in months. "I want it to be true. But how do I know I'm not just imagining things? I want you to be here so badly. What if my brain is just conjuring these impressions to fill the empty space?"

I say it, but the presence doesn't leave me. It's strange – it's not a physical sensation, but it isn't just in my head either.

I try to wrap my mind around it. I'm an alchemist, I tend to analyze things scientifically.

"Let's say this is real – that you really are here." I stand up and start pacing around my bedroom. "How is that possible? The blood seal was broken." I glance at the suit of armor. "The armor is empty." It certainly is. The impressions I feel don't come from the armor. "But your presence remains? Your soul? Is your soul still here?"

Suddenly alien, overwhelming enthusiasm hits me like a tsunami wave, I feel like a crowd of cheering people is going to stomp over me. The abruptness of this impression startles me so much that I stop in my tracks, holding up my hands, probably in a reflex of protecting myself, in case someone like Armstrong wanted to hug me to death.

"Okay! Alright, I get it!" I blurt out on impulse. Then I freeze in shock as it dawns on me. I slowly lower my hands.

If I wan't sure before, this was all proof I needed.

This is _real_. My little brother isn't dead. He's alive, and he's right here.

A grin grows on my face.

"You really are here, aren't you, Al?" As I say those words, I _believe_. I no longer wonder or hope, but I _know_ that he's still here.

My chest feels light like a feather, invisible weight falls of my shoulders. Words can't describe my joy. I can feel Al sharing it with me – he's like an emotional amplifier, multiplying my feelings and making me happier than I've been in years. I burst out in cheerful, relieved laughter.

It's true! He's here! He's not dead! Al is really here!

I jump onto my bed in excitement and I feel Al close to me, laughing along. I can almost hear his precious voice, his own happiness flows through my mind and soul, cleansing it from all the depression I've stored inside me since the blood seal was broken.

Later, I fall asleep with my arms once again wrapped around me, holding onto Alphonse's soul tightly.

* * *

This was the most peaceful night I had in a long time.

I don't remember what I was dreaming about – I rarely remember the good dreams, even with how few I have. But I'm certain Al was in it and we were not separated, but together. That's more than enough for me to be the best dream ever.

When I wake up, the first thing I do is ask:

"Al? Are you still here?"

I can't hear him, but I definitely feel his response.

 _Yes, Brother. I'm here._

I grin like a kid who just got a present.

"Are you coming to the office with me?"

 _Of course. I'm not leaving you._

I beam with undisguised happiness.

My brother is alive. Now, I can live again too.

* * *

They are giving me strange looks.

Well, I can hardly blame them – only yesterday I was silent, gloomy and depressed, staring out of the window all day. Now, I smile at them and work with more vigor than I ever had before.

"What's up with Chief today?" I hear Havoc whisper to Breda.

"He does seem happy for some reason..."

"I wonder what happened?"

"I don't know, but let's just roll with it. Don't say anything to spoil it, alright?"

Oh, there's nothing they can do to spoil my mood. Because Al is here – _he's here_ – right at my side. I look to the left, where I sense his presence, and give him a discrete wink.

I don't know what he says to that, but I can sense his both happy and sarcastic response. I chuckle. Havoc and Breda stare at me with their jaws hanging, dumbfounded. I ignore them.

I don't know when I'm going to tell them – if at all – but not right now. They'll just think I lost it. I don't care what people think though. They can consider me a lunatic or whatever, but I know that Al is here. Nothing they might say is going to change that.

* * *

I really feel like I died and came back to life again.

Ever since Al helped me discover that he was here all along, everything has been better. I no longer have to restrain myself from eating. Actually, I'm more hungry than usual. Perhaps it's because of the diet I've had for the past several months, or my stomach not being weighed with guilt. I don't have nightmares anymore, at least not as many, and I don't feel the need to cry at random times. Mostly, I feel happy. It's hard not to, with the emotion-reading connection I have with Al – he's really happy that I know he's here. It must have been so lonely for him, we all thought he was dead after all. I apologized for that, but he immediately dismissed it, telling me it's not my fault. It's so good to hear – or feel – those words and believe them for a change.

The team is baffled with the change in my behavior. I think it's really funny, how they sneak behind my back to gossip about me, thinking that I don't notice. But I'm not distracted anymore, I have a reason to be focused now. It's easier to sense Al that way. I start researching about souls and blood seals, trying to find out how we're connected.

It's amazing how things turned around. I thought I lost Al forever. But now, we may be closer to getting his body back than ever before. My studies and Al's careful suggestions make me realize that it has never been the armor Alphonse was bonded to. It's always been the blood – _my_ blood. My right arm was used as the toll for the bonding. As long as my blood is here – whether in the blood seal, or coursing through my veins – he will continue to live.

I can't believe I never figured it out before. I've been so _stupid_. I would have killed Al if I shot myself. Good thing Alphonse was there to stop me, even if at the time I though it was merely my imagination.

"Thanks, Al," I whisper.

 _You're welcome, Brother._

* * *

The team wants to 'have a talk' with me.

I saw that long coming. I haven't exactly been hiding the fact that I'm happy again, or what I study, sometimes I even talk to Al out loud in spite of other people being in the same room.

Of course, they come to the only logical conclusion – that I'm nuts.

"Edward, could you come here for a moment?" Hawkeye asks me gently, and I see the rest of the team (except Mustang) waiting for me on the other side of the office.

I sigh, but I follow her. I prepare myself for the worst – ridicule, anger, frustration, pity, useless advice.

But they surprise me. They're not showing any of those things. They are simply worried.

"Edward," she starts. They all exchange concerned looks as she continues. "We saw you've been quite in high spirits lately."

I nod, meeting their eyes confidently. There is no point in denying it.

"Don't get us wrong-" she's interrupted by Fuery, who quickly pipes up:

"We're glad to see you're finally feeling better."

"Yeah, it's great to have you back!" Breda adds and the rest agrees.

"However…" Hawkeye takes over again and I hear them holding their breaths. "We couldn't help but notice that… you're talking to yourself a lot."

I blink. I wouldn't say 'a lot'… It couldn't be more than two times… Maybe they caught me when I wasn't looking. Doesn't matter to me. I shrug.

"Yeah, so?"

They're taken aback by my casual response.

"Chief… you know that's not exactly normal, right?" Havoc asks with uncertainty.

I glare at him.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"N-no, of course not!" he sputters.

"It's just, we hope you're not planning on doing something risky," Falman says delicately.

Is stare at them.

"You think I'm acting like this because I'm going to try kill myself?!" I exclaim, not bothering to include the word 'again'. I really don't want scolding for that right now. I already got one from Mustang.

"No, no!" they assure me, but I continue:

"Okay, okay, I get it, you're worried that I'm emotionally unstable. But **not** **anymore** ," I say angrily. "Look, I'm really sorry for what happened. Havoc, I'm sorry I took your gun. I never should have, and I never will again. Is that good enough for you?"

"Edward," Hawkeye looked dead serious. "We believe you, that's not what Warrant Officer Falman meant."

I calm down. I wait for her to explain.

"We're only wondering if you started considering using alchemy to get your brother back." There, she drops the bomb. Now I get why they all look so nervous.

Much to their surprise, I snort and roll my eyes.

"I'm not stupid. Human transmutation doesn't work. You can't bring the dead back to life." Then I grin widely. "But Al's not dead. He's here. I just have to find a way to get his body back."

All except Hawkeye, who has a professionally trained pokerface, gape at me. Havoc's cigarette falls out of his mouth. I pick it up and hand it back to him nonchalantly.

"Better be careful, if you burn the carpet the Colonel is going to fry you," I remark and walk away, seeing our conversation was done.

 _That went well_ , I sense Al thinking, but I feel he's a bit concerned.

"It's alright," I tell him. "They were going to find out how it is sooner or later. I don't care if they think I'm crazy."

 _We_ _should be careful, though_ , he responds. _You think they'll ever believe us?_

"I hope so. Someday."

* * *

I soon find out from the conversations I overhear that they already knew I thought Al was here. But, they were still shocked to hear me admit it, that I believe it, so shamelessly. After all, I'm an alchemist – we don't believe in Gods, or ghosts, or phantoms. We're not supposed to believe in supernatural phenomenons.

But Al isn't one. It's the same it always has been, except for the giant, seven-feet tall suit of armor walking beside me. His body-less soul is still by my side.

They rarely bring it up, but they discuss it quite often when they think I'm not around.

"It's not healthy," I hear Falman whisper. "He really thinks Alphonse is not dead."

"But what are _we_ supposed to do about it?" Breda whispers back.

"He has to face reality sooner or later, doesn't he? We should try to help him..."

"How? We already tried talking to him. You think it's going to work for the second time? Besides, did you see him? He smiles again. He's completely back to his old self. You really want to take it all away, turn him into that depressed kid he was only a month ago?"

"No, but maybe there's a gentle way to convince him…"

I merely roll my eyes. They can do all they want, it's not going to work. Al is here. I could try convincing _them_ , but I have no physical evidence. The only connection Al has to this world is me. And they consider me biased because of my attachment to Al, just like I did in the beginning. Which is the very same reason why I didn't understand at first what was going, when Al was struggling to communicate with me in spite of my mental block.

However, it's all getting easier. I don't know if it's because of me or him, but we're working on reading each other's thoughts and we're making progress. I still can't hear actual words, but the impressions are so powerful I can decipher their meaning with great accuracy. I think I could do the same, speaking only through feelings to Al instead of talking out loud, but it's easier for me that way. It makes our conversations more "tangible" to me, so to speak. I guess that's the reason why the team started thinking that I'm losing it.

Much to my surprise, the person who tells them to stop worrying about me is… Mustang. I forgot something in the office and when I came back, I heard them talking about me through the door.

"...there's fire in his eyes again. He's determined and nothing any of us say is going to get him to stop. He's not hurting himself or anyone else. I say we let him be."

"Do you believe him, sir?" asks Hawkeye. "Do you really think Alphonse is still here?"

There's a pause. I hold my ear closer, curious to hear his response.

"I believe that _he_ believes it and if there is any chance at all, Fullmetal will be the one to find it," the Colonel states firmly. "If not, he'll come to that conclusion on his own."

Damn right, Colonel. I grin. He doesn't believe me, but at least, he believes _in_ _me_. He knows I know what I'm doing. I can't help but appreciate the trust he puts in me.

I can feel Al smiling at me too.

* * *

I don't know how to restore Al's body yet. But I started thinking about all the possibilities of our bonding.

"If it's my blood that you're bonded to, then really, I could bind you to anything."

I wait for him to respond somehow – enthusiasm, curiosity, anything – but there's only silence. I frown.

"I could put you back in the armor – or maybe I could make something else, something easier to get around in," I continue, wondering what's wrong.

I sense his disapproval of the idea.

"No? You don't want to try?"

I feel the impression of Al shaking his head. I sigh.

"I miss hearing your voice, Al," I tell him. "It'd be a lot easier to communicate. And then you could help me again, with the research and stuff."

But I can tell he still doesn't want to. I wonder why.

"Why not, Al?"

 _Something could go wrong._

"I would be careful," I assure him. "This is your soul we're talking about. I would do it exactly the same way I did before."

 _No, Brother, I'm okay like this._

"Are you sure?"

There's a pause again. He must be thinking how to convey his thought to me clearly enough for me to understand.

 _I can sleep again._

My heart skips a beat, my eyes widen.

"You can sleep again? Really?"

If I could see him now, Al would be nodding. I finally understand. Al is no longer trapped in the metal prison that I put him in. Because of our connection, which was either unavailable or undiscovered while Al was in the armor, he can feel more than he did ever since he lost his body.

If Al is truly happier like this, I can't take that away from him.

"Okay," I say softly. "But we're going to get your body back as soon as possible, alright?"

 _Of course, Brother. I believe in you._

I smile. I'm going to work harder than ever. Until I hear Al's voice again.

* * *

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

It's so stupid. I've been on so many missions before. But the second one Mustang gives me after _months_ of doing boring paperwork, I just had to screw it up, didn't I?

I should have learned. The time Al's seal was broken, I underestimated the enemy. I did it again. While I was distracted fighting with the guy in front of me, anther snuck behind me and stabbed me in the back.

I'm such an idiot.

But luckily for me, those guys are even bigger idiots than I am. While they could easily slice my throat, they just left me to bleed to death, out of nothing more than senseless cruelty. It's such a cliché villain mistake, those guys really got to be amateurs… that makes it even more embarrassing.

Still, I don't have much time, especially to waste it on useless thoughts like this. Blood is pouring out of my wound, and I'm starting to feel light-headed, not to mention the horrible pain that courses through my body. The injury is on my back, so I can't even try to seal it with alchemy, which would still be risky. If I don't get any help soon, I'm going to die.

Al knows it too. I can feel his panic.

 _Hold on, Brother! Just hold on!_

I'm trying, Al, honestly. But I'm losing too much blood…

My blood… the blood Alphonse is bonded to. The blood that keeps him away from death… If I die here, Al will die too, I realize.

My eyes snap open. No. I can't let this happen.

"Al…" I manage. "Al, I won't let you die with me."

My eyes search around frantically. Then, they stop as I find what I need. Indeed, I'm lucky. I may not believe in God, but if there is one, thank you. There's a pile of scrap metal in the corner, conveniently placed just a couple of feet away from me, perfect for what I need to do. With effort, I start crawling, dragging my unresponsive body towards it.

 _What are you doing, Brother? Don't move! You have to stay still!_

He doesn't realize my plan yet. For the first time, instead of opening my mind as wide as possible for him to read, I close myself away for a moment. I have to focus on my task.

It's ironic really, how only inches away from death I can finally understand the true nature of the bond between us. I can't live without Al. The months I spent thinking he was dead, I was unable to move on because he's my reason to live, my happiness and my strength. However, the same goes the other way around. Without me, Alphonse cannot exist in this world. He's bonded to my blood. If I die, he so does he. Our lives are no longer separate. I have to save my life, whatever it takes, because it doesn't belong to just me, but to Al as well – we share it, just as we've been sharing everything else since mom passed away.

I'm sorry it has to be like this, Al, but I have to do it.

I clap my hands and transmute the metal into a suit of armor, the exact replica of the one Al used to be in.

Finally, he realizes my intent.

 _No! No, Brother! I told you! I don't want to go back!_

I am so, so sorry, my little brother. But that's only way I can save you.

I start drawing the circle on the metal with my blood. The same array I used for Al's first blood seal.

"I'm sorry, Al," I gasps as the pain in my back intensifies. "I know you didn't want this. But I can't let you die with me." I have to say this, in case I am wrong, in case I don't make it in time. I have to give Al hope. So I tell him: "My blood will keep you here. Take it. Take all of it. Use it to get your body back. Whatever it takes, Al. Don't give up."

 _Idiot!_ Al is screaming at me. _You're not allowed to die! You can't give up!_

"I'm not giving up, Al," I explain to him. "I'm trying to live. I'm trying to hold on. But help's not coming." I know the team is probably looking for me, but they won't make it, I know they won't. "You're the only one here, Al. I have to give you a chance." I've already lost too much blood, I can feel it, I'm going to lose consciousness soon. "Maybe… Maybe you can save me too… but you need a body to do that. I'm sorry. I know you didn't want this. But it's the only way."

Al halts his protests as he gives it a thought.

 _Okay… Okay do it, Brother,_ he agrees. He doesn't want to be trapped in the armor again, but he wants to save me, just as badly as I want to save him.

I nod and try to smile encouragingly, but it must look pretty pathetic. "See you soon, Al," I say. My hands lift and I clap. The seal erupts with alchemic blue light.

A short moment later, the armor moves and stands up with loud clanking. I can see Al's soul fire, burning in the holes of his helmet. I did it.

"Hey, Al…" I cough. My heart quickens its beating, which is pretty bad, I'm losing blood even faster now. The world starts blacking out.

"Brother!" Al calls me and despite the fear in his voice, I can't help but feel glad, I missed his voice so much. My eyelids fall and I dive into darkness.

* * *

Ugh. I feel like crap.

When I wake up, I can feel the bed beneath, so I must be in the hospital. Al made it, he saved me. I'm relieved. We survived, both of us. Alphonse is once again trapped in the armor, but it should be alright. It's only temporary, after all, before I get his body back.

My back doesn't hurt anymore, the medications are working. But my head is dizzy and spinning. With difficulty, I open my eyes. At first, all I can see is white and some blue. When my vision focuses, I recognize a military uniform against the hospital wall.

I blink. It's Mustang. He's sleeping on the chair next to my bed. If he's here, where's Al?

I look around – my head wobbles, but I ignore it – he's not here. Where is he? It feels weird not to have him beside me. An idea comes to my mind.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on the connection between us. Suddenly, I know where he is. He's somewhere in the hospital – talking to somebody. I can feel his excitement. I wonder who he's talking to. I can't tell, my brain is fuzzy because of the damn painkillers.

Hah, so I can read his mind from distance, I think humorously. Elric brother telepathy, who would have thought.

Mustang stirs. He sits up, rubs his eyes and looks at me.

"Fullmetal? You awake?"

I want to make a sarcastic retort, like: _No, I'm asleep, dumbass, that's why my eyes are open._ But I'm not exactly in the mood right now. So I croak through my thirsty throat:

"Yeah..."

"Are you feeling alright?"

I cough harshly. "Whad'ya think?"

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

"The doctor said you almost died of blood loss. Five more minutes and you would be a goner."

"Tell me s..." I have difficulty with talking, but I manage to finish: "...s-something I don't know."

"Alphonse is back."

I look at him. His face is calm, but I can tell from the tone of his voice he must have been surprised. I wish I have seen his face when he found out.

"You brought him back." It isn't a question, just a statement.

"Yeah?"

"I'll be honest, Fullmetal, you must the most reckless, craziest State Alchemist in the history of Amestris."

My lips make a crooked smile. "Thanks."

The Colonel smiles back. "With that said, I have to admit that it's truly impressive what you have done."

I blink in confusion. Did the Bastard just _compliment_ me?

"Are _you_ feeling alright, Mustang?" I ask dubiously. "You must have hit your head really hard, because I could have sworn you just said something nice to me."

He smirks. "You must be delirious, shrimp."

" _WHO ARE YOU CALLING-!_ " I yell, but I'm interrupted by a sudden fit of coughing. Mustang quickly stands up from his chair and holds my shoulder.

"Easy, Fullmetal."

It's your fault for calling me a shrimp! I think furiously, but I can't say it because I'm too busy coughing my lungs out.

Al enters the room.

"Brother!" he exclaims and rushes forward. Mustang steps back, letting Al help me instead. When I'm done, I look at my brother.

"Thanks, Al."

The helmet can show no emotion, but I know he's smiling, I can feel it. Now that he's close to me again, I sense so much more. He's relieved that I woke up. He's been worried that I've been out for so long, I've been sleeping for three days straight.

Wait...

"It's been three days?!" I shout in disbelief, looking at him. It barely felt like hours!

"Since you were brought to the hospital? Yes," Mustang seems a bit surprised. "How do you know, Fullmetal?"

I point with my thumb at Alphonse. "Al just told me."

The Colonel blinks twice.

"What?"

"Well, not exactly told me." I shrug as I try to explain it. "I mean, he was thinking it, so I know."

"Wait. Are you telling me this… connection you two had is still working?" Mustang stares with me with the most hilarious expression of dumb shock. I snicker. "You two are psychic?"

"Huh." Al scratches his helmet out of a habit. "It does sound pretty weird when you put it that way..."

"That's it." Mustang shakes his head in disbelief. "Now I've seen it all. Elrics just must be crazy since the day they are born."

"That's rude!" Al responds. "I'm not crazy."

"What about me, Al?" I ask.

Al pretends he doesn't hear my question, but I can sense mischievous aura around him.

My eye twitch. "Al…"

"What?" he says innocently.

I deadpan at him.

 _You can't hide anything from me, Al_ , I remind him silently.

 _I can try though_ , he responds merrily.

 _Hah! Go ahead._ _But if you ever try to hide cats in your armor, I'll know_ , I think evilly.

Al gasps. _T-that's… But… Are you sure we can't…?_

 _No cats, Al._

"But Brother!"

"I said no cats!"

Mustang sighs and goes to the door.

"I better leave, before I'm infected with your insanity."

" _I'm not insane!_ " we both yell at the same time. The Colonel shakes his head again and then he's gone.

* * *

"Hey, Al," interrupt the silence as I lay on the bed in our hotel room.

It's been a week since I've been released from the hospital. The team was overjoyed that Alphonse was back. We explained to them what happened after Al's seal was broken. They all started apologizing chaotically, but we shut them up and told them it's fine. Honestly, it sounds so farfetched I would have trouble believing it if it didn't happen to me. They swore to never doubt us again.

It feels so great to have Al – physically – by my side again. I missed hearing his voice more than I've realized. It's not the same as it was when he had his body, but we'll get it back. We're still looking, but I'm sure we'll find a way to make it happen. For now, what we have is enough for both of us.

However…

"What is it, Brother?" Al asks me.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this," I tell him quietly. "I mean, you trapped in the armor again. I know how happy you were that you could sleep again."

Al is silent for a moment.

"Brother, haven't I told you?"

I look at him. "What?"

"I _can_ sleep," he says. "Sort of…"

An expression of wonder must show on my face. "Really? What is it like?"

"It's hard to explain. When you're sleeping, I can kind of drift away with you, as you fall unconscious. I don't have to, but I still can."

I'm so relieved. I haven't taken away this small pleasure from Al after all.

"Brother?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

I smile.

 _It's me who should be thanking you, Al,_ I think. _Because you're here._

He's still here. That's all that matters.

We both fall asleep, as his soul is holding me in a warm embrace.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I'll be honest, this was really hard to write.**

 **I lost a friend once, a long time ago, but I've never had a personal loss of this magnitude to be guided by experience. People can write about emotions, but if you haven't been through anything similar to what you're writing about, chances are you'll be totally wrong. Someday when I lose a relative or someone really close to me (because life is unpredictable and it can happen to all of us anytime), I might read this story again and be like: "This feels nothing like I wrote here. I was so stupid." Even so, I tried my best to imagine and put myself in Edward's position. I hope I did a decent job.**

 **Thank you everyone for reading, please review and read on! Because sharing your stories and inspiring others is what creativity is all about :)**


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